Walking in Truth 9 Chapters
by Ryoko45
Summary: GSR - A teen found dead in a canyon is the beginning of a journey for truth for Sara and Grissom - Please R&R, reviews keep writers alive! :o)
1. Irony is Sweet

***1. I don't own these characters, this show, or CBS (obviously, or Season 3 would have been very different). 2. I'm not making any cash at all out of this. 3. Word to all the UtB people (especially freak_of_nature who was SOOOO nice to beta this for me weeks ago!! Thanks so much!!)***  
  
Chapter 1:  
  
"It's brutal out there," Nick said, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge as he entered the break room.  
  
"Hot as hell," Warrick agreed, his eyes not straying from the magazine before him.  
  
"It's only May," Sara chided, licking yogurt from her spoon before waggling it like a composer's wand back and forth between them, "You two have no stamina."  
  
"Don't even try to tell me that you like this kind of heat," Nick said, glowering out the window at the white-hot sun climbing in the sky.  
  
Sara shook her head, "It's not a matter of liking, Nick. It's a matter of accepting it. You can't change the weather, so why let it bother you?"  
  
Warrick gave a snort of a laugh, "Talking out of both sides of your mouth, Sara."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.  
  
"Supposed to mean?" Nick asked, "You can't tolerate anything. You can't tolerate the drug store being out of your brand of shampoo."  
  
"I have a sensitive scalp," she protested, but her eyes betrayed laughter that was bubbling just beneath her argument.  
  
"Yeah, and God forbid somebody use the wrong cleaner on the lab tables," Warrick said with a shake of his head.  
  
"Oh yeah, that's trouble for a week!" Nick agreed.  
  
"It's government property," she said, her smile now wide, "We have a responsibility to keep things in the best working order possible!"  
  
She lifted her chin in challenge but burst out laughing when she caught Nick using his hand to puppet her speech. She threw her plastic spoon at him.  
  
"Fine, I'm particular with cleaning, but the only weather pattern that nettles me at a crime scene is rain," she said.  
  
Three gazes migrated back to the window. No rain was coming to cool off this day.  
  
"I can't believe we're working mid shift today," Nick whined.  
  
"Ecklie's group had to attend the seminar together," Sara said, pouting at the miserable people in the parking lot. They marched to and fro, fanning their faces with folders and day timers.  
  
"Still a good seven hours until sunset," Warrick sighed.  
  
"Maybe we won't get any cases," Nick said.  
  
"Oh, a case wouldn't be so bad," Sara chimed optimistically drawing a loathsome glance from both of her partners.  
  
"Anybody feel like a hike?" Grissom said, announcing his presence in the break room.  
  
Shit.  
  
Sara opened pretended to be fascinated with the vertical blinds on the window, her mouth to argue, but true to her fears, Nick and Warrick were already united. Both were facing her with wide, teasing smiles.  
  
"Sara was just telling us how much she enjoyed the unseasonable warmth of today's weather," Nick said with a wink.  
  
Grissom blinked twice, not catching the joke; not much caring either. He bobbed his head once and turned, throwing over his shoulder.  
  
"Good. Sara you're with me."  
  
Well, hell.  
  
Sara trailed him through the halls, having difficulty keeping pace.  
  
"So, what's the case?"  
  
Grissom didn't turn around. He slid through the wide corridors like a greased bullet. She lengthened her stride to keep up.  
  
"Ever heard of the Anasazi, Sara?"  
  
Sara nodded, "Of course, famous prehistoric habitants of the southwest. Their ruins at Mesa Verde are in every tour book of the West I've ever seen."  
  
"And it is believed that the Pueblo Indians of our area descended from Anazasi. Have you ever been to the Valley of Fire? It's a park near here," he asked.  
  
Sara blushed slightly and resisted the urge to chew on her thumbnail, "Once."  
  
Her tone gave her away, and she knew it. But what could she say? She had been there with asshole Hank, while his girlfriend probably thought he was teaching orphans CPR? The trip had been hell.  
  
Grissom had stopped and for just a second Sara thought he looked sorry. Was he going to say he was sorry? She sure the hell hoped not, because it wasn't what she wanted to hear. Especially from him. But as soon as she had seen it, it was gone, and he was walking again, talking over his shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry this trip won't for fun, then."  
  
It couldn't be any worse than the last. Her trip to the Valley with Hank had been awkward at best. First there was a battle for a radio station. She wanted something gritty and soulful. He wanted a broadcast from a teenage dance party. They stopped for lunch, and bickered over the merits of each fast food restaurant. Eventually, both food and music were abandoned and they took turns boring each other to tears, him with endless stories of his past hiking experiences with the boys, her with a monologue of the effects of the desert conditions on evidence. She'd never understand why she had been so sure it would work. So sure he would be the one to make her move on.  
  
"Sara?" he asked, pulling her from her dark reverie.  
  
"I'll drive," she said, suddenly realizing that they were in the parking lot. She must have moved here on autopilot. She flushed as if he could read her thoughts.  
  
"Tell me what you know," she said as they climbed into the Tahoe.  
  
"I know a lot of things," he said matter-of-factly and she smiled.  
  
"I mean about the case," she clarified.  
  
There it was, that familiar Grissom brand of brilliance that so often lent itself to blindness. Sometimes it was a funny kind of blind. Sometimes it cut her heart in half.  
  
"A ranger found a dead body about a mile in a remote part of a canyon.  
  
"A hiker?" she asked.  
  
"I don't think so. Apparently he's only wearing a loincloth and moccasins."  
  
"Tarzan in Nevada," she mused.  
  
"Only he didn't make it to the next vine," Grissom said.  
  
"A fall," Sara said.  
  
"Or a push. That's why we're going."  
  
She nodded and braved a genuine grin, meeting his eyes briefly. It was like a circuit of electricity coursing between them and then snapping apart. Why wouldn't that go away? She knew he had moved on. Hell, she had too. At least she had tried. It's impossible to escape a prison that you love. She took a breath, feeling pained by the thoughts and aware of the sudden silence.  
  
Until recently, their conversations were fluid and natural. They had been since the day they met in San Francisco. But now it was strange. He must have known. He must have discovered it during the trial. She had always thought he knew before that. Sometimes she even let herself believe that he felt something too. Her fingers pressed into the steering wheel. The silence was driving her to thoughts she didn't want to entertain.  
  
"Oh, I have something I think you might like to listen to," she said abruptly.  
  
"Are you sure about that?" he asked skeptically while she rummaged in her visor CD holder.  
  
Sara scanned through the songs, "I don't know. I guess we'll have to wait and see." 


	2. Power of Music

***1. I don't own these characters, this show, or CBS (obviously, or Season 3 would have been very different). 2. I'm not making any cash at all out of this. 3. Word to all the UtB people (especially freak_of_nature who was SOOOO nice to beta this for me weeks ago!! Thanks so much!!) Also, any references to other persons/or places in Nevada are completely contrived and have no basis in reality!***  
  
Chapter 2:  
  
Though he cringed in his seat, he was surprised by the gentle tones of a piano. The slow melody of notes grew in volume slowly and he relaxed a little. Then the strings kicked in. It was a deep and melancholy piece, classical instruments melded with electronic sounds. The song was teeming with emotion, straining with sorrow.  
  
"What is this?" he asked, unable to disguise the surprise in his voice.  
  
"It's called God Moving Over the Face of the Waters. It's by Moby."  
  
"Moby?" he asked, but then went silent, taken aback by a new, more powerful harmony that slipped into the song, pulsing and dancing with the first one. It was a crescendo of pain and serenity. It was acceptance of all the bittersweet truth of life.  
  
Grissom felt the music pulling at his heart and he turned to Sara. Her eyes were red; she was holding back tears. This song was so powerful to her that it could make her cry if she let herself.  
  
Something about that struck him and in that stunned moment, he allowed his gaze to stop on Sara Sidle for the first time in months. His eyes traced her chin and her serious mouth. He often marveled that such a sensible mouth could curve into the kind of smile that made everyone in its path melt. Sunlight slipped through the windows and painted streaks of gold on her dark hair. Was it warm to the touch? Insanely, he imagined reaching for one of those dark strands.  
  
"What is it?" she asked, and he jerked his head to stare back at the pavement, shamed that he had allowed himself to stare.  
  
"Nothing." 


	3. Million Dollar Smile

***1. I don't own these characters, this show, or CBS (obviously, or Season 3 would have been very different). 2. I'm not making any cash at all out of this. 3. Word to all the UtB people (especially freak_of_nature who was SOOOO nice to beta this for me weeks ago!! Thanks so much!!) Also, any references to other persons/or places in Nevada are completely contrived and have no basis in reality!***  
  
Chapter 3:  
  
They did not speak again until they arrived at the crime scene. They expected a few patrol cars, some extra rangers and a coroner. What they got was one chubby sweating officer fanning himself with his hat; a visibly shaken ranger, his middle aged dispatcher, and two representatives from the coroner's office.  
  
After saying hello to David and his assistant, who had arrived only moments before them, he introduced himself and Sara.  
  
"Where is everybody?" Grissom then asked. When no one replied, he added more sternly, "Did someone find a dead body in the middle of this public park?"  
  
"Mr. Grissom, my name is Thomas Rhonesby," the ranger offered, shaking his hand, "This is Officer Pete O'Malley. I'm sorry there aren't more of us, but most of the rangers and sheriffs in the county are already tied up today," he said with a sigh.  
  
Grissom tilted his head quizzically, "Tied up?"  
  
Thomas tugged his hat down on his round head and nodded. "Yes, sir. It's a lot hotter than is typical for this time of year and all hell is breaking loose. We've had bears in two campsites at Lake Mead, one missing kid, and a pair of dehydrated hikers that had to be rescued."  
  
He shook his head and rubbed his hands in a worrisome way. A few years older than Grissom, Thomas was built like an Irish soccer player, small and tough. His leathery skin was baked brown from countless days in the desert sun, but his eyes were soft and kind.  
  
"Our luck has just been awfully bad today," he said looking sadly towards the path.  
  
"Not as bad as the boy's I'm here to see," Grissom said.  
  
The ranger stepped back, clearly affronted by the wry comment. Sara moved forward, placing her hand on Grissom's forearm in a silent warning. Her long fingers were gently pressed into his skin. It was distracting.  
  
"Look, it's been a hell of a drive and we just want to get started. Will you show us where the body is, Mr. Rhonesby? She asked agreeably, flashing her sunbeam smile at both the officer and the ranger.  
  
There it was. The million-dollar grin. The ranger bobbed his head like a Labrador retriever and the officer lifted his chin in solemn commitment to the task. Grissom realized that he was nodding too.  
  
Damn that smile. 


	4. Chivalry is not Dead

***1. I don't own these characters, this show, or CBS (obviously, or Season 3 would have been very different). 2. I'm not making any cash at all out of this. 3. Word to all the UtB people (especially freak_of_nature who was SOOOO nice to beta this for me weeks ago!! Thanks so much!!) Also, any references to other persons/or places in Nevada are completely contrived and have no basis in reality!***  
  
Chapter 4:  
  
"My partner is already up there. He's keeping an eye on things," the officer said.  
  
With the situation defused, Sara reluctantly let her fingers slip off of his forearm. Her eyes traced the skin where her fingers had been. Usually his arms were covered from shoulder to wrist. She thanked the heat for forcing him into a t-shirt and watched his muscles work as he picked up his kit.  
  
Very nice.  
  
"Good. Let's get started?" he said and she almost smirked at her own double meaning to that phrase.  
  
"Oh, you'll need a little more than that," the ranger gestured to them with a shrug and Sara shook her head, again convinced that her thoughts were projected audibly.  
  
"Water?" Grissom guessed.  
  
"Full packs would be best," the ranger, said, "You just never know in these parts. Sheila, get me my extra pack, they can at least take one up."  
  
"How far away is this body?" Sara asked.  
  
"About two miles," Thomas said and her jaw dropped open. It was 1:00. They needed to move if they were going to process anything.  
  
"What about these few cars?" Grissom asked. His shirt matched the steel of his eyes.  
  
"That's where my partner is," Thomas said. "He's trying to round up the rest of the visitors to look for anything suspicious and get them out of the park."  
  
"No," Grissom said with his hand raised. "If you find anybody, hold them at the ranger station. My people will need to speak with any potential witnesses."  
  
The ranger nodded and Sheila returned with a pack. Sara took it and slung it over her shoulder. It was a good deal heavier than she had imagined, but she had to move.  
  
"I'll get that," Grissom said. He stretched out his hand and slipped the strap from her shoulder. It was not machismo. He made no show to the others, just quietly put the pack on his own back before they walked forward.  
  
Sara wondered if maybe there was something left, some tiny spark still glowing in his mind. She didn't have to wonder about the ember in her own heart. His soft words had blown on the remnant, striking a new flame out of charred remains. 


	5. Jealousy or Lunacy?

***1. I don't own these characters, this show, or CBS (obviously, or Season 3 would have been very different). 2. I'm not making any cash at all out of this. 3. Word to all the UtB people (especially freak_of_nature who was SOOOO nice to beta this for me weeks ago!! Thanks so much!!) Also, any references to other persons/or places in Nevada are completely contrived and have no basis in reality!***  
  
Chapter 5:  
  
"I'm expecting the roadrunner and coyote to show up around the next bend," David quipped quietly, shifting the empty body bag on his shoulder.  
  
Sara laughed and Grissom paused to look around. Indeed it was a remarkable place. Thousands of years of wind and sand had carved eerie knobs and swirls in the rocks around them. The feet of the mountains were like jagged teeth, jutting from a red skull. Stiff bursts of wind made the sand hiss through the crevices, but it brought them no relief to the heat. Neither did the sip of lukewarm water that Grissom swallowed.  
  
He turned around to face Sara and felt his temperature rise several degrees. As he passed her the bottle, he tried not to watch her breathe, her chest glistening with each inhalation. Her right arm reached over her head for a stretch, revealing an inch of smooth skin at her waistline. Grissom reminded himself to breathe. When she licked her lips and brought the water to them, he twisted his head to the ranger, desperate for a reprieve.  
  
"How far now, Thomas?" he asked, but his eyes wandered back to Sara. Her eyes were dark and her cheeks were flushed. He needed to think of something else.  
  
"We're just a little past half way," Thomas said and Grissom nodded. Mr. Rhonesby was the only one of the group who had not broken a sweat. He adjusted his hat again and waited patiently for the group to catch their breath.  
  
Sara handed the water back to Grissom with a grateful smile. He shoved it in the deep pocket of his pants and turned back to the path. His neck was growing stiffer with every breath she took. His body was pissing him off. He had sought out every woman that attracted him in the last three years. He had indulged in deliberate flirtation, with attractive professionals; even one wanton seductresses, but with Sara, a simple drink of water could make the hairs on his neck stand on end.  
  
He turned to David who was damp but smiling, pulling heavy drinks from his own bottle of water.  
  
"Are you going to be able to get this body back down?" Grissom asked, realizing a young man would soon fill the translucent plastic.  
  
"That's why I brought Gary," David said. Gary moved forward and waved with a tentative grin. His arm was roughly the size of Sara's waist. He could probably carry David and the body and a small car down, if necessary. Grissom raised his eyebrows and nodded, noticing that Sara took little notice of Gary's features. Perhaps after Hank's stunts, she was leery of the muscle-bound type.  
  
Sure, she now prefers them middle aged with a spare tire.  
  
"Right," he said more to his self than the others, "Let's get moving."  
  
"This is Red Rock Canyon," Thomas said as they passed between two immense russet behemoths. "We're close now."  
  
The cliffs thrust up left and right like twin blades guarding a sacred path. The group marched in single file, silent under the watchful glare of the immeasurable walls. Thomas took a moment to adjust his boot and the group scooted to a stop at Grissom's heels. Somewhere in the canyon, an eagle cried; its voice echoing again and again off the jagged rock.  
  
"Wow," Sara whispered, and he could feel a trace of her breath cooling the back of his neck. His eyes went wide and he waved his hand at the ranger, encouraging him to move on quickly.  
  
This is lunacy. 


	6. Guessing Game

***1. I don't own these characters, this show, or CBS (obviously, or Season 3 would have been very different). 2. I'm not making any cash at all out of this. 3. Word to all the UtB people (especially freak_of_nature who was SOOOO nice to beta this for me weeks ago!! Thanks so much!!) Also, any references to other persons/or places in Nevada are completely contrived and have no basis in reality!***  
  
Chapter 6:  
  
The canyon was barren of life but haunted by its evidence. The eerie cry of a hawk. An occasional bleached snakeskin or rodent skull. Even stranger were the petroglyphs. The cryptic images were carefully chiseled, stronger than rock, older than time.  
  
"This place is beautiful," Sara said, staring at every petroglyph they passed with interest.  
  
"The Anasazi used this place for ceremonies," Thomas said, "Those glyphs tell about important beliefs and occurrences. The Anasazi tried very hard to leave their world and their truths behind."  
  
When they reached the crime scene, Sara instantly changed modes. She took a few gulps of Grissom's water before slipping on a pair of latex gloves. The body was prone, face down, hands balled into fists. There was no bleeding and no compound fractures.  
  
"Grissom," she said, glancing up from the body with a question. His cobalt gaze met her and he leaned forward, intoxicating her with the clean smell of soap.  
  
"He didn't fall," she said and he nodded, pursing his lips pensively.  
  
"What made you think this body fell?" Grissom asked the officer, who had introduced himself as Stan Collins.  
  
"Well, he doesn't have any snake bites that I could see....and he is laying face down." Thomas said.  
  
"I don't think he fell," the officer answered, "I told Thomas as much."  
  
"Did you touch anything?" Sara asked suspiciously.  
  
"No, but I noticed a pile of clothes and a gym bag about ten feet from him." He pointed to the pile and Grissom went to investigate. Sara took several pictures of the boy. He was dark skinned, dark haired. He had an angle to his closed eyes and high round cheekbones.  
  
"Is this boy a Native American?"  
  
"More than that," the officer answered, "He's local. This boy is my kind," the ranger said, removing his hat to reveal his own black eyes and cinnamon skin.  
  
"Do you know him?" Sara asked, and the man shook his head.  
  
"No, but he is Pueblo.not sure which tribe, but Pueblo Indian like me."  
  
Sara turned the victim's head after the pictures were complete. His lips were red rimmed and bubbles had formed at the corners of his mouth.  
  
"David?" she called and he was at her side still wheezing as he bent over the body.  
  
"What do you think of this?" she asked, showing the victim's lips.  
  
"Could be due to drug overdose or possibly poison."  
  
The coroner leaned in, and pried open the victim's mouth with his thumb and forefinger.  
  
"I'd be willing to bet poison," he said as the tongue emerged from behind the victim's teeth. It was hugely swollen.  
  
"Chemical or natural?" she asked.  
  
"I'm not sure yet, we'll need to run a tox," David said with interest.  
  
Half an hour later, her minor evidence collection was complete. Sara rose and approached Grissom who was reading a tag on the bag as she approached. Several samples of dirt and leaves were bagged and noted in his kit.  
  
"I can tell you that the ground is trampled around the body. It looks like the boy marched around in circles before dying."  
  
"Possible suicide," he said, "but possible and actual are a long ways apart."  
  
"That depends on what you have here," she said with a nod towards the duffel bag.  
  
"I think that is Halian Nash," he said, "And when he arrived, I believe he was fully clothed," he added pointing to the now bagged red shirt and jeans.  
  
"He also had some interesting plants on him," he added.  
  
"Not recreational, I'd bet. Possibly the poison," Sara said. "How about shoes?"  
  
"No shoes," he said, "Looks like he wore the moccasins."  
  
"Then I don't think we have a suicide," she said with a smirk.  
  
His eyebrow arched and he stood up, following her back towards the body.  
  
"You see that?" she asked, pointing at a trail of footprints that led away from the boy.  
  
"Yes I do," he said, his brows furrowing in interest.  
  
"We approached from the east. Those are about the same size as his, so I thought maybe he had changed into the moccasins."  
  
"But since I didn't find any." Grissom said.  
  
"Exactly," she said with a smirk, "It's still a possibility, but not a probability."  
  
"How long since death?" Grissom asked David.  
  
"The conditions make it difficult to determine. I would estimate 14-16 hours ago."  
  
"That would be the middle of the night," Grissom said pensively.  
  
"Do you have the boy's name?" the officer asked.  
  
"Our best guess is Halian Nash."  
  
"Halian is a Zuni name," Officer Collins said. "A boy with a Zuni name might know something of his ancestors. That might be why he's here."  
  
"A lot of Natives visit this park," Thomas said, "Some consider it a holy ground. A place where their oldest ancestors walked."  
  
"I think it's a poison suicide," Stan said.  
  
"Or maybe someone forced him to take it," the ranger said sorrowfully.  
  
"Or perhaps something completely different. We won't know until we start an autopsy," David added. 


	7. Alone Together

***1. I don't own these characters, this show, or CBS (obviously, or Season 3 would have been very different). 2. I'm not making any cash at all out of this. 3. Word to all the UtB people (especially freak_of_nature who was SOOOO nice to beta this for me weeks ago!! Thanks so much!!) Also, any references to other persons/or places in Nevada are completely contrived and have no basis in reality!***  
  
Chapter 7:  
  
Grissom tilted his head upwards and tried to control his irritation. He needed less input and more silence. He exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. Sara slipped the nearly empty bottle of his water into his free hand. He flinched slightly but nodded gratefully before taking a drink.  
  
She said nothing. God, he appreciated that right now.  
  
"Mr. Grissom, it's getting fairly late," Thomas added and Sara checked her watch. 4:30. The sun would set in two and a half hours. They had to get the body out of there fast.  
  
"Yes, it is," he snapped, "But Ms. Sidle and I will not be leaving until we have processed all of the evidence."  
  
"What about me?" the officer asked.  
  
"I need you to call this boy's name in and find out if he's missing. Make sure that no one gives information to the media. And under no circumstances is anyone to get into this canyon until we're through."  
  
Officer Collins called his partner. He would watch the canyon entrance and his partner would contact another deputy at the station to find the family.  
  
"Are you finished with the body?" he asked and Sara nodded.  
  
He sighed and walked to the coroners, "David, you and Gary can bag the body and get moving. You don't have too much daylight, and we don't want you carrying down a body bag in the dark."  
  
The officer and the ranger were now both chattering into their two way radios. The noise was blurring together in his mind. It was his hearing again, not gone this time, but confused. He needed silence.  
  
Be careful what you wish for.  
  
Grissom called Brass and asked him to come down to the park for possible interviews. Brass let him know that Warrick and Nick were tied up with a hold up at one of the small off-strip casinos. That was fine. There wasn't enough time to get a third CSI up in this canyon anyway.  
  
Ranger Rhonesby brushed off his sinewy arms and approached Grissom, "We have a few hikers at the station, but there is someone in trouble east of here."  
  
"More dehydration?" Grissom asked, incredulous at the number of inexperienced hikers out in this weather.  
  
"Nope, this time it's a regular. Someone took a tumble and might have a fractured leg. His partner went to the station for help.  
  
"So, who's the help?" Grissom asked, "You seem a bit short staffed for crisis day."  
  
Thomas raised his hand with an apologetic smile. "He's closer to me than the station and his buddy is on his way back with a two way. I'll pick him up on my way down and my partner will head up to get you when I reach the station. Do you feel alright with that?"  
  
Grissom nodded, "That's fine. Detective Brass will be there shortly. He has our number."  
  
Before he knew it they were gone. Their scuffling shoes, hissing radios and jingling keys were marching further and further away until at last, they were out of sight.  
  
Alone at last.  
  
But he wasn't supposed to be alone. Suddenly he realized that Sara was not with him. He spun around and found her crouched dutifully near the crime scene. She had already cast one of the footprints.  
  
"Where did you get the water for the plaster?" he asked as he approached.  
  
"There are four liters in that pack. I think Ranger Rhonesby was a little too prepared."  
  
She leaned back to squat on her heels and smiled up at him. His stomach did a nose dive for his knees and he felt like smacking himself. This was no California seminar, and she could not be the teacher's pet anymore.  
  
Get a grip, Gil.  
  
"We should photograph these footprints," he said coolly.  
  
"Done," she said and her grin spread even wider, as if his tone wasn't rigid in the least, "While you were busy delegating to the good old boys, I took care of our crime scene."  
  
She was being playful. It was like a reminder of old times, days that seemed faded at the edges like a favorite photograph. His lips curved upward of their own will.  
  
"Since you appear to be in control, what's next?"  
  
"Follow," she commanded pointing up the canyon where the footprints led.  
  
They walked along in the heat, enjoying the silence and marking and photographing the footprints along the way. The prints followed a steady line. Slowly the steps pulled them towards the canyon wall and Sara noticed more petroglyphs.  
  
She paused and snapped a picture.  
  
"What do you suppose they're for?" she asked, studying the strange bowed figure and curved lines.  
  
"No one knows for sure," he said, his face very close to her own.  
  
"I think these people were committed to making things known," she said.  
  
They moved along the path while the shadows grew long and dark in the canyon. The day was wearing into dusk. 


	8. Making Sense, Finding Truth

***1. I don't own these characters, this show, or CBS (obviously, or Season 3 would have been very different). 2. I'm not making any cash at all out of this. 3. Word to all the UtB people (especially freak_of_nature who was SOOOO nice to beta this for me weeks ago!! Thanks so much!!) Also, any references to other persons/or places in Nevada are completely contrived and have no basis in reality!***  
  
Chapter 8:  
  
Sara was nervous about the fading daylight, and grateful when she found an end to the footprints. There were some smudged marks on the wall above where they had ended. She looked up and saw a rope dangling from a climbing spike.  
  
"Sara," Grissom said and she looked up to see him holding a climber's harness.  
  
"Grissom, something's not right. A murderer would have climbed out of here. He would have needed the harness to do that.  
  
"Maybe they came together. Maybe the killer left Halian's ropes behind."  
  
"That makes no sense. Leaving evidence behind him?"  
  
"More evidence," Grissom said, pointing behind Sara's feet.  
  
She bent over and retrieved a book from the ground. It was black, with a smooth worn cover. It was held closed with a thick rubber band.  
  
"A journal," she said.  
  
Grissom's cell phone rang startling them both.  
  
He answered it and Sara could hear a hiss of static. He pulled his head away from the noise. His face was in shadow. Her once sweat-damp body now shivered as a new chill rose with the moon.  
  
"I can't hear you," Grissom said, "What about shoes?"  
  
He turned into the light, his eyes dark, his mouth an angry line. Grissom held out the phone to her abruptly.  
  
"See if you can hear him better."  
  
She took it with surprise. Grissom hunkered onto a rock and opened the journal sullenly.  
  
"Grissom!" Brass shouted through the speaker.  
  
"No, it's Sara," she yelped, reeling from the volume, "Stop screaming."  
  
"It's Brass, why am I talking to you?" When she did not respond, he continued, "I have some news," he said and she could hear him fairly clearly. There was a hissing static in the background, but it was irritating, not painful. She stared at Grissom, wanting an answer, wanting an explanation. He focused on the journal entirely.  
  
"What about the shoes?" she urged, her eyes locked on Grissom.  
  
"We found two leather sneakers by the entrance of the canyon. They were chewed to bits by coyotes."  
  
"We didn't find any coyote tracks," she said, "And why would they want the shoes and not the body?"  
  
Sara checked her watch, now glowing indigo. It was 6:20. The sun was almost gone. Grissom still read the journal. His mouth frowned deeply.  
  
"Maybe it has to do with the poison, animals can smell that stuff," Brass said, "Sara if you've got something, I'm all ears, but I'm telling you I think this kid offed himself. We got in touch with the family and the kid was indeed troubled."  
  
Sara pulled out her flashlight and pointed it at the last stretch of footprints. The steps were choppy, not a natural gate.  
  
"He threw the shoes," she said to herself, "I don't know why, but I know that's what he did."  
  
"Maybe it was a gift, symbolic to him," Brass offered.  
  
She shook her head and her flashlight zigged and zagged over the footprints. Choppy footprints. He had walked backwards after climbing down. He had thrown those shoes and they probably tumbled down a slope. Then that teenage boy donned a pair of moccasins and trampled the ground, probably in a ceremonial dance. But instead of reliving a former life, the boy ingested a handful of poison and died. Sara shivered.  
  
"Ranger Rhonseby is heading back for you in a few minutes, Sara. Do you want me to hold anyone?"  
  
Sara looked across to Grissom. He now sat with the journal on his lap. He dropped the harness. Something in there must have told him the same because he was now just reading the journal. Not studying, not searching.just reading.  
  
"Is there anyone to question?" Sara asked flatly.  
  
He looked up and she saw a deep kind of sorrow in his eyes, "Only the world," he said, tugging off his gloves with a sigh.  
  
"No, Brass. We'll head back."  
  
She hung up the phone and picked up the journal lying on Grissom's lap. She crouched before him, looking into what she could see of his eyes. They were full of a bitterness she had never seen before.  
  
"Will you tell me what that was about?" she asked of the call. He ignored her entirely.  
  
She touched the journal with a sigh. "Can I read this?" she asked, sensing a raw pain growing within him. She wanted to be tender. If she moved slowly, maybe something would happen.  
  
Yeah, maybe he'll run fast to Heather's to discuss it.  
  
Sara scanned the first few words, and then read aloud from the page that was open.  
  
"It will never make any sense to me. I have done so much, but for so little. I marched in your lines like an insects, following in your shoes, never questioning the way. Always for money. Always for things. Always for the "right here" the "right now". Is this what I have become a man for? Is this how far the world has come? So much has been learned, but even more has been forgotten. I know so many facts, yet so little truth. And so I close my eyes this night, praying dawn will bring me back to the rightness of the world. Without truth, there is no purpose. I will go back. I will go back to learn my truth on this sacred ground. Perhaps my failure to find it in life will be forgiven in death."  
  
Her voice quivered into silence and she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. When she met Grissom's pale and lifeless stare, she felt compelled, even haunted by the words of a young and desperate man.  
  
"There is nothing we can do. No justice we can serve," Grissom said, his eyes fixed on some distant place.  
  
"Tell me your truth?" she probed nervously, empowered by the pages beneath her fingers.  
  
"Sara, don't." he said, shaking his head stubbornly before rising to stand.  
  
"Maybe you can walk away from that, but I can't" she said, standing to face him.  
  
"The truth is that our victim committed suicide, Sara. Our job is done."  
  
He moved to walk away, but she grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn. The boy's words burned like fire in her memory. She knew they would be branded on her heart for years to come.  
  
Without truth, there is no purpose.  
  
"I'm not talking about our job," she said.  
  
"Then there isn't anything to talk about," he said.  
  
"I think there is, but I'm afraid to ask you," she blurted, covering her mouth hesitantly as soon as the words slipped out.  
  
His eyes narrowed and his head tilted, "You aren't afraid of asking anything," he said.  
  
"Yes, I am," she whispered, " But only with you; it's different with you."  
  
"Different?" he asked, and now she released him.  
  
Anxiety made her clumsy. She dropped the flashlight and it clattered and rolled to rest at her feet, casting strange shadowy light up the canyon walls. She could his face more clearly now. The air around her was chilling her through. She crossed her arms.  
  
"Yeah, different," she said, her courage fading, "There's something about you that I can't get out of my head." Suddenly, courage came in spades. It's like a dam had been broken within her, "There's something about your eyes that makes me afraid to look at you. Something about your voice that stops me dead in my tracks. Something about your pain that makes me want to take it from you." 


	9. Final Steps

***1. I don't own these characters, this show, or CBS (obviously, or Season 3 would have been very different). 2. I'm not making any cash at all out of this. 3. Word to all the UtB people (especially freak_of_nature who was SOOOO nice to beta this for me weeks ago!! Thanks so much!!) Also, any references to other persons/or places in Nevada are completely contrived and have no basis in reality!***  
  
Chapter 9:  
  
He was stunned. Shocked.  
  
His mouth was open. His eyes were wide with disbelief. He let out a breath and with it came her tears, spilling like liquid fire over her cool cheeks.  
  
"I can't help myself Grissom. I've walked away. I've turned my back. I know I've never been more than a student to you, but Jesus, deep down in places I'm good at hiding, I wish I was more than that. I wish I could ask you why you gave me the phone, because I think I already know. I wish I could just step through all the weirdness and all my fears and just.." Sara tapered off with a self-derisive laugh. Her eyes caught all the brightness of the moon when she concluded, "So there's the evidence. I guess you are my truth."  
  
---  
  
Sara shivered and Grissom sucked in a ragged gasp of air. His heart thundered in his chest while he tried to process the words. Her eyes bored into him ruthlessly. The wind tossed her hair, separating the dark mass into silken strands.  
  
"I." he stammered. What could he say? What did she know? How did she know? He was her truth? She wishes she were more than that?  
  
Don't you wish it too?  
  
The seconds ticked by painfully. Could he even do this? What should he say? Shit, would his mouth form any words at all? What was his truth? How do you answer that?  
  
She sighed and dropped her eyes and he felt compelled to say something. Anything.  
  
"I'm losing my hearing," he blurted and her whole face crushed immediately. He felt a weight lift and a knife pierce. She lifted her hands in fluttering helpless gestures. A thousand questions danced in her eyes, but she said nothing.  
  
The silence stood between them, tying them together, rooting their feet to the sandy soil. He knew that it was only the start. If he stopped there, he would never say more.  
  
She made a slight whimpering sound and the silence was broken. Grissom lifted his hand to quiet her gently. Then he stepped forward, his legs quaking like a toddler's.  
  
"You already knew that," he guessed.  
  
Her eyes went wide and she shook her head, "I knew there was something wrong. I never knew("  
  
"Did you suspect?" he urged, stepping even closer, his heartbeat growing stronger. He knew she did. Sara knew. A memory skittered through his mind like an errant pebble. She knew in the courtroom. She knew.  
  
"Yes," she nodded, "I suspected, but I thought it was not my business.  
  
"It's only a part of the truth. It's serious but the outcome may not be. I shouldn't have brought this up until I had time to properly explain all of the treatments. I'm sorry for bringing it up now." His bones felt achy. There was much more to be said. Fear of the future, fear of the unknown prickled at his neck.  
  
"I'm not sorry," she said. "I want to know more."  
  
"I think I need to know more about what you said, first," he ventured.  
  
"Don't make me do this, Grissom," she said, shaking her head, her pain betrayed in the tremble of her lips, "I can't possibly feel right putting this all on you now."  
  
He shook his head. This was a damn mess. He couldn't get anything out right. He sounded so stiff.  
  
"Sara, that's not what I meant."  
  
She shook her head, confused and worried. He reached forward. He watched his own fingers shake as they reached for her arms. Grissom let them rest slowly on her, warming the cool skin with his own. Swiftly, his fingers slid up the silky smoothness of her arms, marveling her softness. His felt his expression soften.  
  
"Grissom." she shuddered, and he knew she had seen the change as well. His nerve fled on the wind and his hands stopped moving. He was so close that he imagined he heard her heart beating. But it was his own.  
  
"I can't do this," he said even as his breathing grew uneven, but her hands reached tentatively for his torso, tickling his chest through his cotton shirt. She nodded in encouragement, but his hands shook all the more. What was he doing?  
  
"It's not that I don't.It's just."  
  
He was making sense of nothing. The words were a cacophony of confusion, spilling over his lips in jumbled heaps, saying nothing, making noise. He heard her breath catch and his gut twisted. He had never wanted to say anything so badly in his life. He had never been less sure of what to say, either.  
  
"I won't deny that I'm attracted to you."  
  
Bullshit. Not enough - it's beyond that now.  
  
"No," he said when her eyes cast downward, "No, that's not it. It's more than that. You have an affect on me."  
  
Here we go.  
  
He sucked in another tight breath and blurted, "You have that smile. God, Sara that smile that makes my knees weak."  
  
The glimmer in her eyes returned and her skin warmed beneath his touch. He felt her sway as if his confession made her knees weak as well. He couldn't stop now.  
  
"You're so damn smart and tenacious and eager to learn. I always thought you were the life of the class."  
  
The words were coming now. Quick and easy, like a rope, twining on and on in the night. "You were the life of the team, too. But I knew that wasn't it. Because if it's all about the class, if it's all about the team.. well, that can't explain why I feel the way I do when you walk into a room."  
  
She bit back an awkward noise, somewhere between a sob and a sigh. His throat was tight, his ears burned. His whole body was shaking as if he were naked in a snowstorm. Her every move was an intoxication. She exhaled and he held his breath. She blinked and he watched her eyelids close, then open.  
  
"I don't know what to do," he whispered, his fingers moving over her shoulders.  
  
Her hands splayed over his chest. When the pads of her fingers pressed against him, fire from her touch snaked through his spine.  
  
He leaned in closer and the world was spinning. "God, Sara, make me stop," he begged, thinking of her career, thinking of her future.  
  
He moved forward, his hands sliding over her form appreciatively until they rested at her sides. She bit her lip nervously and his body was no longer his own. His hands clamped on her waist, the sliver of her exposed skin burning his fingers. Desire pulled him like the tide. Ever in, ever closer.  
  
Sara sighed and he felt her breath on his lips.  
  
"Please, Sara, make me stop," he begged.  
  
"I don't want you to stop," she breathed and it was all he could take.  
  
Fast and deliberate, he lowered his mouth over hers, knowing that things would never be the same again. He squeezed his eyes closed as her smooth lips met his own. The sensation and reality struck him with a force he had not anticipated.  
  
He thought of their job. He thought of the team. He thought of the poor boy laying dead because he needed truth. Then Sara tilted her head and opened her lips and the whole world disappeared. Her sweetness pulled him in like a magnet. He deepened the kiss possessively, pulling her to his chest, relishing the feel of her slender form against him.  
  
Her fingers raked over his shoulders to slide down the sleeves of his t- shirt. She slipped her hands beneath the fabric to stroke his arms. He slid his hand beneath her shirt, to feel the soft tight skin of her belly. Her movements were perfection. Her sighs were like whispers of heaven. She was strength and vulnerability and all of life at once. And she hypnotized him. He poured his life, his soul, his whole being into her through that kiss. Every movement was a confession that words could not convey.  
  
His fingers bit in to her skin and hers did the same, her short nails clawing into his arms. The kiss deepened into a smoldering dance. All that mattered was this moment. He had never known need like this before. Their hands and lips were locked to each other, and the world around them was some dim and shadowy afterthought.  
  
Their pace quickened. She moved her hands into his hair and he dragged his to her hips, pinning her body against him even more tightly. She broke for a throaty sigh tossing her head back to pull in a deep breath of cold air. He reached to trace the slender column of her neck where her pulse fluttered like a hummingbird's wings. She lowered her dark gaze to him again, and her hair slid over his wrists, every strand a new seduction.  
  
"Gil," she breathed and he marveled at the sound of his own name.  
  
A cell phone rang into the darkness, and the entire canyon came screaming back. They jerked at the noise and then it rang again. He answered it and she scooted back awkwardly.  
  
---  
  
It was like walking from heaven into hell. The wind instantly sliced into her arms and she felt chilled to her very core.  
  
"Yes, fine. We'll see him there," he snapped the phone shut. "Thomas is over halfway here. We need to head back."  
  
She nodded and bit her lips. His eyes followed her mouth, which pleased her. Then they went dark with fear and he pushed his hands through his hair.  
  
"What do you want me to do?" she asked obediently, knowing his fears. She would have done anything. She would lie. She would steal. She would move to Brazil. She could still taste him on her lips and it was more powerful than her own will.  
  
"I'm thinking about that," he said.  
  
"I could transfer."  
  
"No," he shook his head sternly. "You're amazing at what you do. I don't want you to change it for this."  
  
He turned away from her then and she felt something sick and cold like fear tickling her spine.  
  
"For this?" she said, hugging herself.  
  
"I didn't mean it like that," he sighed shaking his head in frustration.  
  
"I can't ignore that this happened. I don't want to," she said timidly.  
  
He stood a long time facing out at the desert. She feared his response like nothing else she had ever known. If they hadn't kissed, she could have pretended, but now, she knew she could never look at him the same. Everything was different. The truth was spoken.  
  
He did not turn, but said quietly, "I don't either."  
  
Relief fell over like warm rain. She smiled and then bit it back, afraid to be too eager.  
  
"I don't know what to do about it, though," he added, turning to face her.  
  
"I'm scared to death of this," she admitted, knowing her heart was on the line. She couldn't be halfway with Grissom. She simply didn't know how.  
  
"Me too," he agreed, his eyes focused again on some unknown spot in the distance.  
  
"I'm afraid that when we leave this canyon, you're going to run from this. Pretend it never happened, pull back into your solitude. I'm afraid you'll disappear into a lie."  
  
His eyes found hers then and he came forward and placed his palm against her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her lips briefly before dropping his hand abruptly to his side.  
  
"I might do that, Sara," he admitted honestly.  
  
"What then?" she asked, already missing his touch, already fearing his withdraw.  
  
"I guess you'll have to be my truth, then," he smirked."  
  
Without speaking again, he gathered the evidence and settled the pack on his shoulder. They started their journey back through the canyon. Ranger Rhonesby was waiting. The whole world was waiting. And Sara was ready for it.  
  
--End 


End file.
